Digital Demon


there is a demon in digits
neon-lit or
elegant chrome,




me off the night away &
melts my liquorice eyeballs
to blistering plastic puddles

there is a demon in digits
& a strangling vine
in those metallic hands,
milking my corpse for yet another hour

when all i want to be
is gone.

photo credits:

Frost’s Curse

what to do
to drown the turmoil,
the palpable tension
crowding the mind?
what to do
to keep from spinning,
to keep from turning,
to feel
sleep’s soothing touch?

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

your words hold
such delicate beauty ~
but i must say
they are a curse.
sorry, Robert.

… the quote is the last stanza of Robert Frost’s wonderful poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening‘.

Desiring Only Sleep

hard on your heels,
pressing breath upon your neck.
illuminated digits
make no sense –
but spread urgency
the more you stare,
the more it will deny
its presence.

another sleepless night…
wheels turning,
craving the obvious.